Saturday, March 08, 2008


So.
Laura Ingalls Wilder's, The Long Winter, has found its way to Buffalo. Will winter never end?

Ok, ok.... I'm exaggerating. Our glorious Monday is only a memory (or did I dream it?) and we've had lots more ice, more snow, which has filled my head with complaints--hence, my lack of blog posts. (And there is a lesson in there which I'll let you figure out.)

We were due for The Big Snowstorm at 4:00 p.m. yesterday, but it landed at 9:00 a.m. instead, (sigh), so I rolled my eyes and dressed for outside much earlier than I'd planned.
Bundled up, I walked down to the deli where they were out of eggs (again) which I was in dire need of, but I bought a bag of potatoes and tuna. While the lone cashier totaled my purchases I gazed up above her and noticed, for the first time, an ancient framed sign with a black and white photo of the original owner (it said), probably from the 1920's. Next to it was one of those oval frames from way-back-when with an elderly woman's photo, probably the man's wife. This deli is new to this ancient street, but perhaps those photos have always hung there, even when this tiny shop was something else.
Whatever, I love anything which catapults me back in time. In my cap and long black coat I felt like one of those elderly women who make their semi-daily trip to the market with coin purse in hand. I hope you have some of those ladies in your town--they're the salt of my earth, anyway.

I carried my purchases back home, put them away, then headed out the door again into more snow which was not yet sticking. I walked down that 'country road' I mentioned to you (the one which is a country road only in my head, the one which runs parallel to the railroad tracks in people's backyards). As usual, I walked on the street's edge since most people have given-up shoveling their sidewalks because of the coatings of ice on top of the snow (ever shoveled wet concrete?). Then I cut across one of the 'ghost town neighborhoods', so-called by me because, with all this winter stuff happening, the streets are eerily silent. But cars sleep under snow in driveways so I just assume people live inside those houses--and yet I feel all Gone Away Lake-ish anyway. (I've read Gone Away Lake probably ten times. I think you'd like it.)

I walked past some old shops where the owners still live above them, to the convenience store, bought the eggs and my usual yogurt and peanuts, etc., and wandered back home, but this time with baby steps because the snow began sticking, covering the icy parts of the street. Took me forever to return home, but I was thankful that at least I'd gotten some of that filtered grey light upon my (frozen) face. My mind and attitude are so very sensitive to light, this time of year more than ever, and I no longer have the sunroom which aided me through 14 dark winters more than I realized.

Yet later, after I'd been home awhile, I floundered. I could feel the dreaded ol', "there's-much-to-do-but-I-don't-feel-like-doing-it" feeling and I caught myself thinking, "Hmm.. Having a computer around 24/7 the past seven winters seemed to make Life easier. Maybe we should get ours out of storage instead of just using the laptop Tom brings home from work with him at night." And I continued imagining other ways and means of getting through these last few weeks of winter... tried making a mental list of stuff which I could rely upon to keep cabin fever at bay--t.v., books., friends, shopping, studying, decorating, hobbies, activities...

But I stopped myself. No, I want only to rely upon Jesus... upon Him and the ideas He gives me--His plans and ways and means. When I rely upon people and places and stuff, well, I discover real trouble and inevitable disappointment. And so I smiled and began a mental gratitude list and went from there, puttering and anticipating Tom's return... and drawing Life and Light in the meantime from the only One who can really give it...
... and for my aloneness now or upon roads ahead, I want to practice and be ready to go it alone-but-not-really-alone. His way.
***
"In Him I live, in Him I move, in Him I have my being... I am complete in Him." ... copied.

4 comments:

Beemoosie said...

What a lovely post. I'm a bit farther east than you are...and yes, that glorious 65 degree Monday seems so far away! We are currently being bombarded by snow, then some ice, then snow again...

~Blessings

daisydreamer said...

I love walking with Jesus.

Grammieof3 said...

Admired the way you turned your day and thoughts around.

Debra

Jan said...

You are doing well. Don't despair. The complete change you have made and the lack of the familiar things you gravitate to when you are not knowing what to do has made you more aware of what God wants you to do. He does push us out of our comfort zone and it it very good for us.
And He is enough!